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In this part of the book, gavin and Sadira have a perilous encounter with an old foe, The Wirn…

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“Sounds—”

A dreadful cry echoed above them. Gavin turned to see the massive winged form bearing down on them, raising his shield as adrenaline set his blood aflame. The head and the barbed tail of the beast were instantly identifiable: a wyvern! On the beast’s back was an armoured Wirn. Snow shot into the air as they landed nearby and Gavin blocked a sudden tail strike that shot forth, partly obscured.

Further up the hill came more shrieks and the sounds of metal on metal, the sizzle of spells, and the war-cries of a battle joined.

Gavin could feel Headtaker draw an enormous amount of power from him, shrugging off Wirn twisting, and saw a bright flash as she called lightning down on one of the mounted Wirn.

Anger spurred Sadira to action, and she charged the closest Wyvern, brandishing her greatsword. The tail flicked toward her as she closed, and she dodged out of the way of the wicked barb, then sidestepped out of reach as the beast sought to bite her in half. She bought her sword down on its neck, but a band of thick metal thwarted the killing blow. Before Sadira could strike again, the beast swung around and butted her aside with its armoured head. She rolled to her feet perilously close to the mountain edge. An arrow from the beasts’ rider skipped off her pauldron as the Wyvern closed.

“Not this time beast!” shouted Gavin, charging forward to aid Sadira, his shield held high. The monster remained intent on Sadira, and so Gavin leapt in, knocking the Wirn rider out of its saddle and into the snow, grabbing the back and pulling himself up.

Sadira howled and lunged thrusting her blade into the neck of the Wirn before he could rise. His blood gushed out onto the snow as she darted away from his mount. The Wyvern screamed and lunged at her, but Sadira danced out of the way of the lashing tail and snapping jaws.

This one is a little weird. The Shugothoth is a thinking disease, while Lignam is a simulacrum created from an evil Gladiator and a vampiric plant that took root in a cultist. In a cosmic sense they both want to shift the world and the use of magic away from the Domains of the Chosen.

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The air was thick and strange now. As Lignam came closer to the source of the power he sensed, the Shugothoth sent swarms of bees and blood wasps to assault him.

These proved to be a growing nuisance, for though the grim totem quickly broke each wave, close to the heart of its power the Shugothoth seemed more willing to face pain.

Tiring, Lignam paused to channel, tapping into the power of the elements. He did not like invoking the old magic that he had retained from previous lives, but he could not deny that it had its uses. He wove the pattern and cast his spell. After a moment, his armour began to glow with heat. The insects all around him curled up and fell from the air or were simply burnt to ash. Lignam himself was subject only to minor discomfort from the heat.

After several minutes, the insects let up, and Lignam ceased feeding power to his spell, letting it expire. His armour cooled and, as he pushed forward, looking around, he realized that the annoyance caused by the insects had hidden a change in the jungle from him.

The Shugothoth was capable of creating predatory trees and warping living things, but in the place that Lignam’s senses brought him to, it had altered the entire ecosystem. Every living thing was warped and changed.

Enormous trees bore egg sacks containing an army of monstrosities like grotesque fruit. As Lignam watched, one of these eggs split, birthing a multi-headed serpentine creature that proceeded to eat the remains of its own placenta before undulating toward the centre of the infected jungle.

And there, beyond dozens of such acts of tainted parturition, Lignam beheld the source of the power he could sense; an enormous grove of festering, pulsating trunks with limbs like a kraken’s arms dropping down from the canopy. Hives of deadly blood wasps ringed that inner grove, vomiting forth clouds of the vicious little creatures, defenders that could thwart even him.

He saw their masks then, all fierce and predatory. They seemed almost like the Beastmen that he had faced as a Legionnaire.

They came at him swiftly, and he barely had time to draw his belt knife before they were upon him. He cried out as they hacked him down in a cruel frenzy.

Panic spread through the peaceful streets and fields like a fire through dry wood. Everyone ran, taking shelter in their houses, barring the doors, hiding.

Some ran down the road away from the village or toward the trees, away from the attackers. Their hopes were dashed when they saw more figures on the roads and more masks glittering amidst the trees. These were peaceful people, and they had no knowledge of such dangers.

A few unlucky people were caught out of doors. Some outran the Silver Masks or used their knowledge of the village to hide where a stranger would never look. But most were simply cut down, and their screams as they were cruelly butchered served to terrorize those sheltering inside.

The air was thick and strange now. As Lignam came closer to the source of the power he sensed, the Shugothoth sent swarms of bees and blood wasps to assault him.

These proved to be a growing nuisance, for though the grim totem quickly broke each wave, close to the heart of its power the Shugothoth seemed more willing to face pain.

Tiring, Lignam paused to channel, tapping into the power of the elements. He did not like invoking the old magic that he had retained from previous lives, but he could not deny that it had its uses. He wove the pattern and cast his spell. After a moment, his armour began to glow with heat. The insects all around him curled up and fell from the air or were simply burnt to ash. Lignam himself was subject only to minor discomfort from the heat.

After several minutes, the insects let up, and Lignam ceased feeding power to his spell, letting it expire. His armour cooled and, as he pushed forward, looking around, he realized that the annoyance caused by the insects had hidden a change in the jungle from him.

The Shugothoth was capable of creating predatory trees and warping living things, but in the place that Lignam’s senses brought him to, it had altered the entire ecosystem. Every living thing was warped and changed.

Enormous trees bore egg sacks containing an army of monstrosities like grotesque fruit. As Lignam watched, one of these eggs split, birthing a multi-headed serpentine creature that proceeded to eat the remains of its own placenta before undulating toward the centre of the infected jungle.

It was a dangerous plan, and yet it seemed so full of possibility that Cazius wondered why he had not considered it before. His magic gave him absolute command over the machine, so why not give up his broken body for something over which he had more control?

“Yes!”

Cazius exerted his will. He wove a quick cortex core spell to take command of the automaton body holding him for a single action. He commanded it to gently pull the blade from his chest.

He felt pain as the blade slid out and blood began to stream from the wound. It was a dull pain and he realized that he did not have much time.

Next, he dragged himself across the ground to one of the automatons with a functional power core. Touching it, he could animate it despite its damaged state. He crawled onto it’s arms and took control.

The metal frame lurched upright, his body its it arms. With such close physical contact, Cazius could command it even though his vision swam, and simple weaves were difficult to grasp. He just had to stay conscious.

Every step seemed like an eternity. He wanted to rest, but he knew if he gave in that would be a rest from which he would never wake.

Juggernauts were made for breaking formations. The line would ultimately hold if it connected, but the men at the front would be crushed. Vintia had to slow it down. The massive automaton travelled on wheels, and while that gave it an advantage in speed and ramming power, it meant that rougher terrain could slow it down.

Gauging its route, Vintia drew power for several heartbeats, weaving a powerful spell…

And a little more…

A terrible sound, like that of a thousand out of tune trumpets played all at once issued from the monstrous automaton as it strode over the hill toward the Legion.

Gavin did not get a full measure of the beast until it crossed the hill, striding toward him. The Brass Colossus was truly immense, as big as a dragon or a deep-sea Kraken. The Chosen could feel the earth shake as it walked, and he summoned more power and readied his spells for battle.

“Stand back,” he commanded the cohort escorting him. “Keep the flanks clear if you can, but do not get within its reach. This is a fight that will be won by both magic and by artillery.”

The Brass Colossus did not veer from its path, striding straight toward Gavin, shaking the ground with each stride. The Chosen walked forward, meeting it as far from the troops as he could. Light glimmered on its surface as it charged, and then with a few strides, it was looming over Gavin. He realized then that much of the Brass Colossus’s exterior was covered in the still moving, grasping hands of the brass men that composed its body.

… A river of fire flowed past Olius’s house, winding toward the central market square of Terlula’s Pride, the second largest city of The Empire and the jewel of the verdant lands called The Thousand Tongues.

The snaking flames were caused by thousands of men and women carrying torches in the dark. Olius could not see them underneath the bright flames but he knew that they would be wearing the black robes and hoods of the Nullifiers, haters of magic and everyone associated with it. That list included Olius, a well-to-do artificer who owned a Steamwaggon near the city’s expansive port and a small curio shop in the wealthy merchants’ quarter.

With his stomach in knots, Olius watched the progression of the parade. Here and there he could see the torchlight glimmering off the breastplates of the handful of Legionnaires who were keeping the peace. Olius thought that it was possible, likely even, that those torches would be applied to his house if those men were not there.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” said Yndira, his wife. She sounded angry, rather than fearful, but that was because she had been a Gladiatrix in her early life…

And another for good measure.

... The Wyvern landed on her. Talons gouged into Sadira’s thigh and hip as she caught the beast by the jaws before they could snap shut on her head. Despite the disparity in size, Sadira’s ferocious strength and sheer desperation kept the jaws from ending her. She raged and spat and they struggled until the red Wyvern shook its head, tossing her into the air, and moving with supernatural swiftness as it snaked forward to snap at her again.

Gavin crawled forward toward Sadira. The Wirn woman, obviously some kind of Gifted, slid off her mount’s back and came toward him, drawing power. Gavin reached for power of his own but found only pain as he tried to channel. The Wirn Gifted laughed, weaving her own spell.